Til the Next Goodbye
by Psycho Hippie Number Five
Summary: The soul passes through many vessels while in the mortal world, but it always retains a piece of the lives it experiances. AU, Rated for violence, language, adult themes. ArmonOC.
1. Prologue, Part 1

This is kind of short, but it gets the point across. This is shown every Sunday on some digital TV network and it wormed its way into my mind. I don't know what I'm messing with here (I've missed a few episodes and at first it was just a thing to watch since the other Sunday cartoons were cut), so I could use a little help. If anyone ever decides to read this. The title is taken from a Rolling Stones song, by the way. At any rate, since I don't really have anything else to say at the moment, let's go on, shall we?

**Disclaimer-** I own nothing you recognize.

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Minette was having The Dream again. It was a bizarre collage of minute-long scenes like something from a Hollywood romance movie, mute and fuzzy-edged. She was observing the interaction between a thin, dark-haired woman and a tall, muscular brunette man. At first they were sparring, then attending to a royalty figure, then holding hands and kissing even. Has she not known what happened next she would have been happy for the couple, whoever they were. But it wasn't so.

There was a great war. They were separated, he to fight and she to help the wounded. The nest scene was but a silhouette, of the man's right arm being completely separated from his torso. He was taken to a primitive medical center along with the severed limb. The woman's sorrowful expression haunted Minette as she recognized her injured lover. She fell to her knees, crying into the back of his remaining hand.

It shifted to a plain room, the man lying on what appeared to be a stone table and the woman staring at him, eyes filled with angst and depression. The young royalty figure approached, followed by two men holding something covered by a white sheet. He exchanged a few words with the woman and the cloth covered thing was laid next to the warrior. The sheet was pulled away to reveal an arm made of solid gold, fitted in place of his missing one. The woman said something to him and a smile crossed his face. She leaned over to kiss him on the forehead.

Then he died.

Minette always woke up after this and she was thankful for it; if she had to watch anymore of the woman's suffering she was sure it would make her physically ill. The Dream practically did anyway. She lay in the middle of her bed, covered in sweat twisted around her ankles. It was sweltering in her entire apartment and the tank top and shorts she'd worn to sleep in an attempt to help had proved useless. The heat and The Dream made her nauseous and she knew the rest of the night would not be welcomed.

The red numbers on the clock read four-twenty-seven in the morning. Minette rolled her eyes, realizing that the heat and the threat of having The Dream again would prevent her from sleeping any further. She stood, relishing the feeling of the cool hardwood floor, and moved to the living room. She sat cross-legged on the couch and turned on the TV, hoping for something to distract her. She ended up watching some cheesy, predictable horror movie until the sun came up.

Now that the obnoxious yellow light was out, the dullness of Sunday set in. She didn't have any college classes, no homework, and the museum was closed, meaning she didn't have to give tours. Having nothing to do outside the apartment didn't mean there was anything to do inside. She could clean, but her residence was already pretty clean. There was the museum....

_I'm doing that,_ she declared mentally, reentering her room to pick out fresh clothes before showering. After twenty minutes, most of the time attributed to savoring the cold water, she emerged in a white camisole and a pair of cutoff shorts she'd trimmed way too high. She grabbed her scancard off the table, slipped on a pair of flip-flops and exited the room.

The sun blinded her as she left the building, content to walk as long as she got to the heavily air conditioned museum. When she finally came across the oasis she slumped in one of the corners close to the door, finding the coll air sweeter than ambrosia and abandoning her plans of helping the cleaning staff. Before she could stop herself she was lulled to sleep.


	2. Prologue, Part 2

This is a random insert type thing, which may be added to another chapter in the future. There's not that much to say except thanks to Mahalove for reviewing and favoriting this story. I honestly should be working on Art of Death and Demon's Kiss, but I have too short of an attention span to finish the half-chapters I have for the both of them at the moment.

**Disclaimer-** I own nothing you recognize.

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The memories flooded back in the darkness of the sarcophagus. Memories of a woman with long dark hair and mismatched eyes that fascinated him. She was the personal nurse to the pharaoh and he his combat instructor. When she was not on the job she was ditzy, naïve even, and more than once he'd witnessed her burst into tears at the slightest thing. One of the times she'd lost her serious demeanor was during one of the Prince's lessons.

Being his nurse, she attended the lessons to be sure nothing serious happened. She'd sit nearby, eyes flicking back and forth between master and apprentice. There was a look of wonderment in her eyes and it made him smile. He reminisced on the day she'd actually asked him for lessons, of when she'd spent the week helping him around when he'd injured his ankle, the time they'd ended up spending together while attending to the pharaoh. Their relationship grew, in part to their close proximity and their opposite roles. The warrior rescued the beautiful maiden and the maiden healed the warrior.

There was a wedding, of course. The Prince had given them his personal blessing. Then there were the long nights spent together and after that, the good memories seemed to be swallowed up in a black pit.

The war occurred and they were sent to their separate duties. He could almost feel the intense pain eve now as his right arm separated from the rest of his being. He was sent to the medical center and she recognized him. Her eyes clouded over with grief at the realization than nothing could be done. Next he was lying on his death bed. The pharaoh presented him with his golden arm. She said the last words he would ever hear her say - "In the back of my mind, I await the day we shall be together, in the next world, ready for the next life, tied with a bond everlasting" - and she leaned over to kiss his forehead. At that moment he was placed in the land of the dead.

He would always feel her grip on a hand that was no longer there. Now she would haunt his dreams. Her name was love.

Her name was Femi.


	3. Chapter 1

So, yeah, here's the next installment. I'll try to keep with this story as long as I can - if I do stop writing for a while I should come across something that will make me continue. I'd like to thank fourfourfourfour for reviewing (I had to pause for a moment after typing that; it boggled my mind) and all who read this.

**Disclaimer-** I own nothing you recognize.

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Presley's eyes lighted on the college woman in the corner and frowned. Her violently red Little-Nell-Rocky-Horror hair was falling in her face and she was breathing lightly – she was asleep. He knew it would happen some day, that she would fall asleep at work or school; she always came in looking like she'd been to a college party. With a brief roll of his eyes her bent to shake her awake. She woke up first, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. She looked around wildly.

"Oh, man, Presley, you...frightened me," Minette told him, pushing hair behind her ears. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" he repeated. "What are you doing here? You're sleeping in the museum on your day off."

"I...know," she answered, still dazed.

"I don't understand you."

"Okay, let me take to time to point out the errors of your ways. One I'm a college student, meaning I'm crazy already. Two, I'm a female, meaning I'm practically a different species from you. So, being a female college student, there is no sane reason as to why you should even try to understand me. Okay?"

"Yeah." He paused, then shrugged. "Sleep good?"

"No." Presley gave her a questioning look. "I had a dream."

"What about?"

She shook her head. "It was nothing." He thought about asking again, but the look on her face told him not to. "So, you never answered my question."

"My mom runs the place."

"So? You're a kid. You should be out playing or whatever kids do these days." She paused. "You know what? I don't even want to know. For all I know you could be running a drug ring, you know?"

"That...made no sense."

"Your face makes no sense."

"Gee, thanks, Minette."

"You're welcome." The woman stood and adjusted her clothing. Satisfied, she started out the door and toward the sphinx. Presley trailed after her.

"Where are you going?" he asked, coming up along side her.

"Dunno yet."

"The cleaning staff went home, you know."

"Then why are you here?" Minette stepped in front of him, hands on her hips. "Hmm?"

He fumbled for words for a moment. "Look, here's ten bucks," he said, producing the money. "Go down to the batting--"

"Play ball!" she practically screamed, running down the street and leaving Presley in a daze. He never would understand college students.

-x-

There was a resonating crack as the ball connected with the bat and was sent flying into the net. It was followed by a hiss of air and a strange popping noise as the next ball was released. She succeeded in hitting this one, and the next. She missed the fourth one as she caught sight of Presley walking down the street accompanied by four other people. _Sneaky little bastard,_ she thought briefly, shutting off the machine and stuffing the scattered baseballs into her bag.

Minette walked down the other side of the street, twirling the bat in her hands. She smirked as she decided the best way to announce her presence. She took one of the balls out of her bag, tossed it in the air, and swung. The four strangers all ducked and adopted strange fighting positions. The college woman raised a brow. "What are you doing, Presley?" she asked, leaning on the bat.

"Nothing, I--"

Minette sent another ball sailing toward them. "Everyone's doing something. Where are you going?"

"We haven't decided yet."

She tossed a ball up and down. "Plausible. Who are your friends?"

"They're from school." The baseball flew over their heads after the startling crack. "What was that for?"

"I don't believe that." Minette paused, leaning on the bat again. "I mean, if there's something you can't tell me, that's cool. But I just want to make sure I don't find your bleeding mangled body in a roadside ditch. It'd be my fault because I fell for your stupid bribe." She jogged across the street and picked up the baseballs. "If I can't know what they do, can I get some names at least?"

"Um...."

"C'mon. You're not helping your case. I'll use your head for batting practice if you don't give me some kind of answer."

"This is Ja-Kal, Rath, Armon, and Nefertina," he said quickly, before pushing them away. "Sorry, Minette, we got to go, bye!" Presley led them away from the woman.

"He's messing with me," Minette muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. "I know it. He's messing with me."


	4. 2013 news

**WELL SHOOT SHOOT SHOOT IT'S 2013 AND I KNOW I'M FOOLING YOU ALL BY INCLUDING THIS NOTE BUT I INTEND TO ONE DAY SIT DOWN AND REVIEW THE THINGSES THAT MY FICS ARE BASED ON AND LOCK MYSELF IN A ROOM WITH THEM AND TRY TO GET BACK INTO THEM.**

At the moment, I feel promise for Art and Kiss, especially since the new TCM (if I ever get my butt to the theatre) will probably get me in to mood.


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